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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551831">Love thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchiTuttle/pseuds/ArchiTuttle'>ArchiTuttle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>College, F/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:07:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchiTuttle/pseuds/ArchiTuttle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What was it about him ? That little bubble appeared and faded away so quickly that it almost felt like a daydream. Did I make it up ?<br/>Whether I did or not, that little interaction lit a spark near a metaphorical pile of tinder and twigs in my dulled mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Little original work I started writing on an impulse - tags will be updated as I update it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At that point, he'd been on my mind for a month. Sometimes that month felt like an hour, sometimes it felt like three excruciatingly long years. What made it worse was just how foolish I felt. I had barely exchanged five sentences with him, plus a handful of greetings, and I was pretty sure he'd forgotten my name already. But I couldn't stop thinking about him.<br/>
What was it about him ? At first it didn't seem like anything more than a slight interest. Then I caught myself looking at him during lectures. When did I start sitting a few rows behind him ? I didn't remember. But I think what sealed it was that morning lecture, during the second week.<br/>
It was about Twelfth Night - because, of course, it had to be Shakespeare - and we both raised our hand to answer a prompt from the professor. We were in disagreement over the interpretation of a specific line. He gave his, I gave mine, and he turned around to smile at me.</p>
<p>Was it the smile ? Maybe. He did have a bright, genuine smile, that immediately made me feel warm. It was easy to return it. </p>
<p>The exchange that followed is a little unclear in my memory - it was early, I was tired, and his eyes distracted me somewhat. But we each defended our idea, more or less adroitly, bouncing off of each other with mounting enthusiasm. I could tell he was clever and that this was a challenge of sorts, exciting for him as it was for me. Words led to words, ideas to ideas, and soon we were somehow following the same thread of logic instead of tearing down each other's weaving. Just as every other thing was beginning to fade in my mind, my thoughts focusing only on our literary sparring, a dry, irritated cough interrupted us.<br/>
The professor was not amused by our discussion, apparently.<br/>
Before he turned around, he flashed another smile at me, almost apologetic, and just like that it was done.<br/>
That little bubble appeared and faded away so quickly that it almost felt like a daydream. Did I make it up ? Was I just projecting the excitement I had felt onto this guy I'd never talked to before, who was just a silhouette in my life ? Maybe. Probably.<br/>
But whether I did or not, that little interaction lit a spark near a metaphorical pile of tinder and twigs in my dulled mind.</p>
<p>Weeks of boring conversations, mind numbing small talk and repetitive classes had put me in a sort of slumber. I was merely sleepwalking through most of the days.<br/>
But that debate, that exchange, whatever it was, had rekindled a little of my enthusiasm. I wanted to talk to him again, to feel that excitement blurring everything else around us.<br/>
Had I not suffered from pathological shyness, I probably would have simply gone to him, to suggest having a coffee together. It might have made things substancially more simple. Alas, no such luck.<br/>
I kept daydreaming on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, sitting three rows behind him and waving to him on my way out, before quickly dashing towards the door to avoid any kind of interaction. What if he didn't like me ? What if he had been irritated by our debate and I just didn't notice ? What if he had no interest in me and was simply being polite by smiling to me every time we ran into each other ?<br/>
All the doubts mounted and mounted, making it unreasonably hard to even consider another conversation.<br/>
But, nevertheless, here I was, standing in the doorway of a stranger's flat, holding up a six pack as offering and akwardly smiling to the host, whose name I had already forgotten.<br/>
Going to these parties had never been a priority for me. Being stuck in an appartment with about thirty drunk classmates I barely knew was my equivalent of Purgatory, where the thing I desired most was to get out, even if it meant jumping out the window.<br/>
At this point, all I wished for was a warm blanket, a cup of tea and the cold light of my computer screen, filling my brain with happy moving images before drifting to sleep.<br/>
But leaving right away was not an option. I had scoured through his social media, trying to find something, anything to solve my chronic inability to interact with people. I had recognized a few bands, a few movies, some games and interests I would be able to talk about, but the only way I could figure to get to that point was to meet him outside of the oppressing lecture halls.<br/>
Maybe then, I thought, I could take the tiny step that would lead to what I wanted. But that required putting myself in this unusual and uncomfortable situation. How badly did I want to talk to this guy ?</p>
<p>As I walked to the coffee table to add my offering to the pile of food and drinks, I scanned the room, looking for him. He wasn't hard to spot, as I had been engraving his features in my mind for the last three weeks : he was standing next to an open window, talking to a girl as she smoked.<br/>
He was too far for me to hear what they were chatting about, but his expression was one of relaxed enjoyment, a slight smile spread on his lips. Simply seeing him made a comfortable warmth swell in my chest.<br/>
I sat down on a free chair, looking around to see if I could spot anyone else I knew. There was this girl from my British History lecture that had kindly lended me her notes after I got sick during the first week, but she was currently sitting on another girl's lap and apparently making a snack out of her neck. I was absorbed by the spectacle for a minute, my thoughts drifting to how long it had been since I could taste someone else's skin, and when I turned back to him, he had left the girl alone at the window and was walking towards... Me.<br/>
He was looking directly at me, smiling, with a beer in each hand, and for a second I thought I just might run away. Thankfully, his attention froze me in place and I could only smile back, both relieved and panicked.</p>
<p>"Hey ! Vincent, right ? From Literature ?" I said, almost ashamed of feigning to doubt his name, considering it was the first thing I had looked up about him.<br/>
He pulled a chair to sit facing me and handed me one of the beers. "Yeah and you're Noah, the famed Shakespeare expert." He said with a smirk.<br/>
I was almost certain that I was blushing but I did my best to conceal the rest of my emotions as I laughed and nodded.<br/>
"My one and only skill ! How are you doing ?"<br/>
"Doing alright, just hanging out, trying to get to know people better, make sure I have someone to cover for me if I can't be asked to show up to Lindon's lecture."<br/>
The South American literature professor was known all over campus for being the dryest, most uncharismatic person to ever get a PhD.<br/>
"Smart. I should probably do the same."<br/>
"Hey, I'll make sure to save my Brit Lit notes for you just in case. That's one less lecture to insure."<br/>
My smile only got brighter as I opened the can and took my first sip, trying to conceal my excitement as best I could.<br/>
"Thanks, I appreciate it. I'll do the same for you!"<br/>
He nodded and took a sip of his own beer. He didn't seem drunk as far as I could tell, contrary to a lot of other guests, seeing as I showed up kind of late in the night.</p>
<p>The rest of the conversation was as typical as I could have hoped - nothing strange to unexpectedly escape my mouth, nothing from him that could risk turning me off. Just banalities - Ah yes, I work at this café on weekends - How interesting, you also like this band - and a few jokes I hoped dearly he laughed at sincerly and not out of social obligation.<br/>
I felt comfortable around him, like I'd been talking to him during this entire month instead of creepily stalking him. Soon, the people around us faded away as they did before during the lecture, even the music and the noise receeded as we spoke. I looked at his eyes, glanced down at his hands distractedly playing with the now empty can, looked up again so my gaze would meet his lips, curved in a gentle smile.<br/>
"Noah ? Are you drunk ?"<br/>
I snapped out of my contemplation, feeling an embarassed flare of warmth creep up my neck. The beer in my hand was mostly full - I had forgotten its existence a few minutes into the conversation - but I laughed anyway.<br/>
"Ah, maybe a little I uh... I was out with friends before I came here"<br/>
Liar liar liar why couldn't I simply tell him that I was just really enjoying his presence ? It was like a reflex, a muscle I used too often in this way - to never show weakness.<br/>
"I'm going home soon, if you want I could walk with you to the station." he proposed, tilting his head to the side. He was still smiling but I could see his expression had dimmed somewhat. Did he see through me ? I smiled back awkwardly and nodded.<br/>
"Yeah you're right it's late. Thanks."<br/>
After a few more minutes of conversation, mostly regarding the various ways we reached university every morning, we got up, waved to the rest of the room and left. I caught the girl that was previously busy eating someone's throat glancing at me and smiling, which made me somewhat uncomfortable. Thoughts rushed through my mind - I didn't even know if he had a partner, what if people started to gossip because we left together and it damaged his relationship ? He'd surely hate me then, refuse to speak to me again and I'd have to go back to my dreary routine, without even the hope of breaking the monotony with some wholesome stalking.<br/>
I didn't have the time to clarify, as it might have been odd to shout across the room "We're not going to fuck !" in a cheery tone. So I simply followed him outside.</p>
<p>The night was cold, even through the layers of sweaters and coat I had envelopped myself, and the wind stung my face when we stepped out. He didn't seem too uncomfortable though, in his light jacket and scarf - was I this sensitive to the cold ? We walked towards the metro station and, weirdly enough, I didn't feel like the conversation was going to resume. But I also wasn't worried about it. I felt at ease next to him, now that the crowd wasn't there to witness everything we did and said.<br/>
I glanced at him a few times - he was taller than me, not by much, but I still had to tilt my chin up if I wanted to meet his gaze - and he always had the shadow of a smile floating on his lips, looking around us at the street lights and the few windows still lit up.<br/>
Right before we reached the station, he looked back at me just when I glanced up and his smile spread a little wider. He stopped walking, right under a street light next to the stairs going down.<br/>
"What are you thinking about ?" he asked<br/>
"Huh ? Nothing... Why ?"<br/>
"I don't know. You just looked... A little intense."<br/>
I could feel the heat crawl up my neck and ear, and I immediately slumped my shoulders, trying to bury my neck in the collar of my coat so he wouldn't see it blushing.<br/>
"You know just... A little drunk that's all."<br/>
"You don't seem that drunk actually, now that we're out. Nevertheless..."<br/>
He reached into his pocket and took out his phone, pulling on his glove with his teeth.<br/>
"I'm gonna need your phone number."<br/>
"Oh uh... Yes. Let me take yours too."<br/>
It took me a few seconds to remember where I had put my phone - partly because I had a lot of pockets, partly because I was quite flustered. We exchanged numbers and he put his phone away.<br/>
"Text me when you get home, alright ?"<br/>
"Sure ! You too."<br/>
He winked at me and turned on his heels towards a nearby bus stop. I stayed frozen for a second before my body started responding again, and did the same, walking down the stairs, the warm gust of air coming from the subway still cool compared to how hot my cheeks were.</p>
<p>And then I was in front of my appartment door. How ? Most probably because I had taken the metro, changed at the third station before getting off at the last one of the other line, before walking to the familiar building, entering the door code and taking the stairs to the first floor.<br/>
But honestly there was no way to be sure, because as far as I knew, that journey had been spent entirely in my head, replaying every single word that was said that night. That turn of phrase, that chuckle or that glance, like a puzzle I was trying to solve. I couldn't simply let it go - it felt so meaningful and yet so mysterious.<br/>
I pushed the key inside the keyhole and turned, mechanically, entering my small student flat. I let my bag slide from my shoulder, closed the door behind me and grabbed a glass to fill it with water in the same movement. The whole time I was thinking of the way he'd taken off his glove, pulling on one finger with his teeth. The glass felt ice cold in my hand as I walked to my couch - well, my bed. I put the glass down and pulled my laptop closer to me, more out of mechanical habit than out of desire. As I was waiting for my sight to return, after the cold light of the screen had rendered me temporarily blind, I felt a soft vibration near my leg. Something hit me then.</p>
<p>I had completely forgotten to text him.<br/>
I scrambled to reach into the jacket I had tossed aside, pulling out my phone. The text was some notification for a discount on pizza delivery, which I promptly deleted.<br/>
Then I sat down with my knees pulled up to my chest, my face inches from the phone screen. After a few long seconds of immobility, I noticed that I was biting my lip.<br/>
What would I even say ?<br/>
'Hey, didn't get abducted on the way home' might be too dark. I didn't know if he'd find it funny...<br/>
'Hey, didn't get abducted by aliens on the way home' would be better but it felt so forced, why would I feel the need to joke about it ?<br/>
'I'm home' seemed too simple. I wanted the conversation to go on, not just to shut him down.<br/>
Time was ticking and every minute I spent mulling over it made me feel even more uncomfortable, so I settled on<br/>
"Made it home safe ! How about you ?"<br/>
Simple, straight-forward, but I was also inviting a response. That seemed safe enough.</p>
<p>I let go of the breath I was holding - how long was I holding it ? No way to tell - and dropped my phone next to my leg, glancing back at my laptop screen. Out of habit, I logged in to my various social media feeds, scrolling endlessly. I was barely seeing the pictures, but at least I was strong enough to not stay glued to my phone waiting for his answer.<br/>
After what seemed like at least thirty minutes - but I realised was actually just five - I felt the phone buzzing against my leg. Even before the second vibration was finished, the light was shining in my eyes again.</p>
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